Biography of Kyle Jones
Kyle Jones Poems
Death Of A Suicidal Lover
Arm in arm, Nearly frozen, Her heart pulses harm, Like the night his was stolen,
I Will Live
Everytime my eyelids fall Night after night in all my dreams I see you, I feel you, and that is all I need to know that my heart still screams
A Poem To Fan The Flames Of Heartache
This haunts my sleep It burns out smiles, assuaging nothing as it does so. Feeding my depression and fanning the flames of my heartache. Can't you tell me that everything will be alright?
Convincing, More Like Lying
Guess I'll take a seat and persuade myself it's true. That you’re trying to persuade yourself we're through. My friends and soul try to tell me you're gone. But I won't listen to myself or anyone..
If all I had left to give, was one last night before I'd die I wouldn't ask for much, only for you to hold me... Oh, love, Wrap your arms around my neck, Then I had one single dying wish
Is There Anything Left To Say?
I lost what I want I want what I lost Enough said?
Story Of The Weak Pt.I
'It really is a shame...' He thought as he sat on the edge of his bed, Face buried and hidden in his hands
This Is The Poem
This is the part of the poem where Things like love Start My hand glides across your bedroom wall as I dim the lights, The shadows hiding in your mind, body and heart,
'Please take care of her, sir' Was the last thing you heard me ask, Just before the surgeon took you out of my life,
Under The Weather
The first dark day of summer came sooner than I had hoped, I took one look at it and just looked back at me 'You're a total wreck' it said 'Wearing a jacket in this overheated hell hole'
Did I ever tell you the story of a boy and his true love? He took her on a single date and they both fell for each other. She spent the autumn waking up in between his arms, She told him how perfect that was, and that he was the one.
I check you out, seeing inside you, I see a big disaster Nightfall, or your fall, which one will come faster? I dedicate this poem to the fact that it's hard for you to keep,
Look at me now! Flipping off churches and spitting at stars around the moon Hoping, dreaming, praying, wishing ...
Story Of The Weak Pt.I
'It really is a shame...'
He thought as he sat on the edge of his bed,
Face buried and hidden in his hands
'...That I have grown accustomed to feelings like these'
Taking a deep breath, he threw aside the steak knife,
It hit the hardwood floor with an uncharacteristically quiet clang,